Bill
Pagano
Pictured
is a Lancia I built in 1958. That’s me in the driver’s seat. Loved racing!
MINE
IS a long story. However, I will try and write a bit at a time. I am 85 years
old but thank God my memory is still perfect.
My
father was born in Italy in 1912 and my mother in 1915. I was born in 1935. My father had to join Mussolini’s Italian Army
in 1939, just before my sister was born, he was sent to Africa and later taken
prisoner in Asmara, Ethiopia.
The
British and the Allies captured thousands of Italian soldiers in North-Eastern
Africa and elsewhere. Of these, some 55,000 Italian POWs were sent to 11-camps
(all built hastily) in Kenya. He was held captive in Naivasha, in the Rift
Valley, around 90 km from Nairobi (beautiful area). At the end of the war, he had
managed to get a job with a Mr Taylor in Kinangop, in what is today Nyandarua
County. (The county is located on the northwestern part of the old
Central Province and contains the Aberdare Ranges).
While my mother and I were in Italy, for six
years, we did not know if our father was alive or dead. The last time we heard
from my father was at the end of 1939. He was away fighting for the Duce
(Mussolini) My sister was born in June 1939 and, according to my mother, he was
sad for not being there to see his new-born daughter. It was 1946 when we
eventually heard from him. A Mr Taylor wrote through the Red Cross,
We did not know what the letter said because
none of us could speak, read or write English. My mother had to walk 10 miles
to find a gentleman who could read the letter. He had lived in America and
spoke good English. It was a Mr Taylor said in the letter that my father was OK
and in Kenya and that he would be coming home soon. Mr Taylor said in the
letter that he was sorry to lose my father and he hoped he would return to
Kenya to work for him again.
As soon as my mother returned home, she ran to
the priest to cancel the funeral arrangements she had for my father. My father
came back in June 1949. He was a carpenter and knew a lot about construction
and buildings. By then, Mr Taylor’s daughter and son-in-law, Mr Durie, had
bought a farm and wanted my father to be in charge and take care of their farm.
The Duries were looking after Mr Taylor’s farm.
Two years later he applied for a Government job
with the Public Works Department and was sent to Eldoret. I followed him and
got a job with Cooper Motors. My father and his road crew took care of the
repairs to the road from Eldoret to the Equator (there is still a sign
advertising the Equator). In the end, he got a big job. He had to build a big,
big bridge with railway tracks underneath. There was a significant camp of Mau
Mau detainees nearby and, every morning, he would send three lorries to pick up
the detainees to work on the bridge. He had to hire four white people,
including my uncle. Three years later, I went back to Italy on vacation for six
months, all paid for by Cooper Motors.
When I came back, my father and I finished
building the railway bridge and decided to start building contractor business,
with me as a sleeping partner. However, by then, he needed a vacation and went
back to Italy for six months, all paid for by the PWD.
Dad got a big contract to build around ten
dormitories with new toilets, a sewer system and a Catholic Church at Kitale.
My uncle joined him full-time and he continued working for the P W D. He sent
an SOS to relatives in Italy to help with the building work. Soon we four
relatives arrived. We soon had a two-storey building of our own. The second
storey housed a bar and restaurant called Pagano’s and it soon became popular.
On the first floor, I had a grocery store in partnership with an Indian friend.
I also had a transportation business with three lorries working almost 24 hours
a day.
I was 23 years old with too much on my young
shoulders. The weekend was my time off if I did not have to do police duty to
give the full-timers a break. Otherwise, I would go dancing on Saturday nights.
On Sundays, I would love to play tennis.
Finally, I need a break. There was an opening
for a Service Manager in Tanzania. My boss, Mr Sparrow, recommended me for the
job. After a month, much to my father’s disappointment, I got engaged to a
Scottish girl and took off for Dar es Salaam.
A lady teacher with me from Hill school.. The one sitting on my lap with a glass on her hand, forgot her name.. This was at the Railway Club...
Giving rides to children with a Land Rover converted as a locomotive..
Me in front of the Land Rover, all in Eldoret..
My father was Pasquino Pagano and my mother’s
maiden name was Ida Maria de Santo. We arrived in Kenya on my 14th
birthday on October 1, 1949, from the Port of Brindisi to Mombasa. A year later,
my mother and two sisters and an uncle joined us.
Leaving my little hometown of 800 folk was very
hard on me. We were just one big family, especially during the war. We were occupied first by German soldiers
followed by the Africans, the Indians, the English and finally the Americans. There
was some fighting. The Germans were in my town, Liscia, and the English in
Palmoli where my father was born with the River Trieste dividing the two towns.
So I was not a stranger to people from other countries.
On the Lloyd Triestino, my father met a fellow POW
who was going to be working on the farm next to us. My father’s boss, Mr Durie,
had paid for three train tickets in advance as he also knew my father’s
friend’s boss. We went to the train station only to learn that there were no
tickets. For three days we at a hotel in a single room as we did not have much
money. We lived on the bread and cheese we had brought from home. Finally, the
tickets arrived and we were on our way to Nairobi. My father’s friend’s boss
came to get us and took us to the Duries’ farm in Kinangop
My uncle went to work for a Mr Nightingale. In
Naivasha, my very first job was as an apprentice mechanic, also on a farm, and
I lived with an Italian, Mr Petrarca, who was in charge of the repair shop. Mr
Hughes, who owned the farm, was a Major serving in India. He was a terrible man,
as I remember. The first thing he told me was not to talk or have any contact
with black people. Otherwise, I would be fired. He used to whip black people
every day when they made a mistake. Three months later, I had an accident on a
wood planer. I chopped off the tip of the left middle finger and a little off
the sides of two other fingers. Mr Nightingale took me to a hospital in Nairobi
and his son took me to my father’s place. Dad did not have a car and could not
come to see me at the hospital.
Three months later, I went to work in Naivasha
in Gordon’s Garage and stayed with Mr and Mrs Brown. As mentioned, after two
years in Naivasha, we moved to Eldoret.
I won the first Mount Elgon motor car rally in
1957. Earlier I lost out in the first Coronation Safari (later East African
Safari, Kenya Safari) driving a Volkswagen. I won the rally with a friend of
mine and when we arrived at the finish, there were no English people to welcome
us. There were only a few Indians and Africans. That was because I was of
Italian prisoner of war stock. There was a lot of discrimination in those days.
They even announced an Englishman as the winner
of the race in the East African Gazette. They did send a little cup as
the winner of the race. I still have it. They misbehaved again when the Queen
Mother came to Eldoret. I was to drive the Land Rover I had prepared for Her Majesty,
as I was also a part-time police officer. They took me off that detail. I loved
what I did, and I would do it again. Sorry, excuse my grammar, never did go to
an English school.
This is an ongoing story and Bill plans to add
to it if and when he can.
Discrimination in Kenya in those days should
not have come as a surprise to anyone. However, as far as the Italians are
concerned, it was not that long ago that they were killing British soldiers and
their allies. The colonial government and settlers were angry that their paltry
funds were spent to meet the ongoing costs of caring for the POWs. The British
government in London was otherwise engaged.
The settlers did not want to see white men
working with Africans on the farms as menial labour. They did not want the Italians
loose with their womenfolk who were in charge of the farms while they were away
fighting for Queen and country. After all, most Italians had the reputation of
womanisers. Most of them were pretty handsome and charming to boot. Still, if
there was a white settler around, there were no problems. Italians were
normally good dressers and stylish dancers. However, they were racist too
because they did not actually treat their Indian and African camp guards with
any kind of decency.
Please send your comments to
skipfer@live.com.au
A lady teacher with me from Hill school.. The one
sitting on my lap with a glass on her hand, forgot her name.. This was at the
Railway Club...
Giving rides to children with a Land Rover converted as a locomotive..
Me on front of the Land Rover, all in Eldoret..
